


maboroshi

by Mooselk



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Twins, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Deconstruction, Gen, Identity Issues, an aggressive number of line breaks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 16:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13170540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooselk/pseuds/Mooselk
Summary: "Was the Soowon that I saw an illusion?""The Soowon that you knew never existed to begin with."AU Yuhon had two sons. Absolutely nothing changes.





	maboroshi

**Author's Note:**

> 幻 (まぼろし）- [maboroshi] - a phantom, vision, dream or illusion 
> 
> Written for a-kouka-rat on tumblr for the Akayona Secret Santa 2017. Props to sorasan0000 for the original idea, and for pointing out non-continuity in the bloodstains on Soowon's robes.

             They are born identical, five minutes apart. They spend all their time together, inseparable, indistinguishable. It doesn't make a difference where one ends and another begins. They speak to each other in incomprehensible babble, and scream if they are separated.

The doctor says that all of this is normal for twins: they came into existence in one another’s arms, after all. But their mother still worries. The fact that she cannot distinguish between her own children frightens her nearly as much as the way her husband looks at his sons.

* * *

 The decision to move to the country estate had been nonnegotiable, and in the end, for the better. It was a difficult birth, in part due to Yonhi’s sickly body and compounded by the unexpected arrival of two children instead of one. Away from the constant bustle of the city, mother and children could recover from the ordeal in peace. Travel is, of course, out of the question. No one thinks it odd for Yuhon to return to palace alone to announce the birth of his son and heir. There is celebration in the city of Kuuto, for the healthy birth of Yuhon’s child. His only son.

* * *

 “Soowon!” Their father barks, sharp and sudden at the dinner table.

Two blonde heads turn and tilt towards him, one to the right, one to the left.

“What is it, father?” They say at once, pitch rising and falling seamlessly.

Yuhon allows a brief smile to break through his stern countenance. “Nearly imperceptible that time. Good.”

“Thank you, father,” they chirp, turning back to their food in one smooth synchronized motion. Pick up, chew, swallow. One has left onions on the side of his plate, the other peppers. Yuhon’s brow creases. They will need to work on that.

* * *

At first, Soowon is like an imaginary friend. Their father tells them stories about him, a boy their age. Soowon is very observant and very clever. Soowon will one day be king. Eventually, Yuhon begins to ask them to help with the stories, and before long, he withdraws from the role of storyteller completely, leaving the twins to spin the tales themselves. “What would do Soowon do?” he asks them, as they play, as they eat, as they sit learning their letters. “Can you show me?”

They play many games with their father in their early years. He will have one brother pick out objects based only on descriptions from his twin, or continue conversations that the other has started. They start learning to draw early too, and Yuhon enforces the keeping a detailed, daily journal, shared between the two of them. Their handwriting is indistinguishable, and there is only one name on the cover. Soowon.

It is unclear when exactly Soowon goes from a bedtime story to the one, living, breathing son of Yuhon. But, by the time they are six years old and must comes to travel to Kuuto to be formally introduced to the royal court, their father does not need to prompt them anymore. They sit in their room, fingers interwoven.

“Will you be Soowon for the ceremony?” one asks.

“You do it, I know you wanted to,” his brother replies, squeezing his fingers. Their father wants them to switch off every day while they are there, but even he cannot tell them apart anymore. He will not know whether or not he is obeyed in this.

They depart the next day, one riding with their father at the front, the other in the entourage, dressed simply.

Their father has drilled into their heads that at the palace, they must be the most careful. At the estate, the servants are loyal only to Yuhon and his family, but here, there are many eyes, most of them unfriendly, all of them sharp. “Trust no one but each other,” Yuhon tells them sternly, and their fingers tighten around one another’s hands where they are clasped, hidden by voluminous sleeves, before they part, one heading to the royal quarters, the other to the servant’s halls.

Soowon learns much in Kuuto. Most importantly, Soowon makes friends, and allies as well. And when the fortnight passes and they are returning home, not one person – not Yona, nor Hak, nor Ogi - has noticed the deception.

From then on, even to their father, there is only Soowon.

* * *

 And then their father is gone.

* * *

Two pairs of eyes shine in the darkness of the bedroom. The figures are still, fingers intertwined so tightly that they are going numb.

“Father is dead.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. I saw…” A shuddering sob, hastily silenced behind clenched teeth.

A noise of denial.

“You don’t believe me…”

“No, no, I do but-how could he…?”

“I don’t know I don’t understand but I _saw_ him the sword it went _right through and the s-sound-_ “

Arms over arms, noses buried in each other’s necks, seeking comfort. But there is none to be found.

A whisper, hesitant.

“What do we do now?”

A long pause.

“What would Soowon do…?”

* * *

 Here are the facts: Soowon is a boy their age, who was meant to be king, before his uncle was chosen to take the crown. He is clever and observant, if a bit of an airhead. Soowon has two friends, who he loves. Soowon’s father has been murdered by his uncle, and only Soowon knows about it. The question: what will Soowon do?

* * *

 For months after their father’s death, they are left more or less alone. Alone, together, they sit, and think, and plan. It is nostalgic, almost, and that reminder of the days spent with their father stabs the spikes of grief in deeper. And as the news of their Uncle Il’s latest catastrophic decisions make their way to the estate, it becomes clear that his reign cannot be allowed to continue, for the sake of the country that Yuhon had loved so dearly. For the sake of the country that Soowon had been created for, Soowon will have his vengeance, sooner rather than later. And Soowon is once again a boy who will be king one day. Soowon is a boy who will have blood on his hands.

They gather their allies carefully, slowly. Keishuk becomes the first person to ever catch them in the act of switching, and they recruit him instantly. His canny wit and passionate patriotism will serve them well. Joodoh, ever protective of Soowon, and doubly so now that the boy is an orphan, but yet so very loyal to the crown, is harder to convince. But as time passes and Kouka weakens and weakens, he is swayed begrudgingly onto their side. And once they reveal themselves to him, as intense as his reaction is initially, their life gets much easier now that they do not have to sneak under the nose of Kouka’s most aggressive mother hen. 

“I wish you hadn’t told me,” Joodoh hisses, several weeks later, leaning against the wall.

Soowon tilts his head, “I do apologize. But I thought you said that you wanted to ‘know what I was up to’, General Joodoh.”

Joodoh lets out a frustrated sigh. “See that’s what I mean, right there. Did I say that to you or the other one? Where even is he, anyway?”

“Does it matter?” This time, Soowon doesn’t even look up from his journal, stylus sliding swiftly across the paper. But his tone is soft and pleasant, so Joodoh plows on, despite the clear dismissal.

“Of course it matters! You’re two separate people you can’t- I want to know who it is I am talking to!”

“But we aren’t separate, General. We are Soowon, both of us. It will be easier for you if you don’t think about it.”

“But there must be some way to tell you two apart…” Joodoh mutters, his eyes roving over the boy’s face.

Soowon sighs, and turns to face him. His smile is patient but his eyes are shuttered.

“Not even our father could. But if you do find a way, please let me know. We will correct it.”

* * *

 Eventually, it becomes redundant and ineffectual to have both of them in the same place. Kouka is a large country, and there is much to be done. They decide then, that it is time to split up. One stays at the estate, playing the part of the out-of-favor royal nephew. Soowon appears at all the required functions in Kuuto, never staying long enough to infringe on his uncle’s wavering hospitality, but also long enough to pacify Yona, and spend time with Hak. The other makes his way around Kouka, exploring, documenting, gathering support. They send each other letters, carefully coded. It is lonely being Soowon, all alone, each thinks, but they do not include that in the letters.

“The state of this village is appalling, I don’t think they have had enough food to keep from starving in years. And the tax rates are still rising.” reads one letter.

“I very nearly kissed Hak today and I will never be able to look him in the eye again,” he almost replies, before thinking better of it, crumpling it, and feeding it to the flames. “The nobles are restless,” he writes instead. “I spoke to General Sujin, and I think that if we do not ally with him soon we will end up as heads on the ends of his pikes.”

* * *

 When they come back to one another, it is like two halves of a puzzle fitting together. It has been nine years since their father was murdered. They are no longer the children they were, and Soowon has grown with them. But the time spent apart has changed them. There are places where the puzzle no longer aligns. And as the time grows nearer and nearer to set their plan in motion, sometimes those imperfections become clear.

“Everything is in place. Soon, we will be able to make our move.” The fire flickers in his eyes.

“Father will finally be avenged...” Says the other, contemplatively.

His brother nods, looking thoughtfully over a calendar.

“I’ve sent word to our allies already. This day, here. Soowon is expected in Hiryuu palace, and in a crowd of that size, no one will notice a couple extra soldiers.”

“Yes. But wait, isn’t that-“

“Yona’s birthday, yes.”

“Brother, that is cruel. Push it back.”

“Cruel? Brother, her father will be dead regardless of the day it happens.”

“When you put it that way, Soowon sounds like the villain…”

His brother lets out a short disbelieving snort.

“This isn’t a child’s story. And what about Uncle Il, then? Isn’t he our villain?”

Not for the first time, he feels the stabbing of dislike for his brother, for himself. The words are halting, but he needs to get it out, needs to explain this sudden hesitation.

“We know how much it hurts. And we’re doing the same thing to her regardless.” He takes a long breath, “Hak would hate Soowon, should he find out about this.”

There is a long pause, and he stares at his hands, clenched in his lap.

“You are compromised when it comes to them. To Hak, especially,” His twin says coldly, eyes narrow and calculating. He twists his own face into an identical expression on instinct, rising to face him.

“He is talented. With him on Soowon’s side, think how strong we could be.”

“But he is also hopelessly loyal to Uncle Il. No, brother, do not lie to yourself. This is an emotional reaction, isn’t it?”

He lowers his eyes. Lying to his twin is impossible. “And if it is?” He finally whispers. “We are going to hurt him and Yona so much. Soowon is their _friend_.”

“They will never have to find about it, if we are careful. But even so, that has been a risk from the start. Remember what this is all for.”

Despite the harsh words, the hand on his shoulder is comforting, and he leans into it. The stark images of the starving, disease-ridden villages, of whispering, unsatisfied nobles, of shrinking borders, of a sword in the night and the slump of his father’s shoulders dance before his eyes.

The day draws near.

* * *

 He gives Yona the hairpin with a smile. His brother had scoffed at him when he had bought it.

“Now who is being cruel?”

He had simply wanted to give her one last beautiful thing before they tear her life apart, had just wanted to see her smile for him one more time. He knows it is selfish. So he fixes his brother with a cold stare as he slips it into his sleeve.

“Soowon is.”

But as he hands it to her, sees her eyes light up and a blush dust her cheeks, he is struck with the knowledge that even now, his brother is polishing the sword in their chambers, that there is no turning back, and he just feels sick.

* * *

 The blood drips off the end of his blade. It splatters the ground, his robes, his face. The body. His uncle is as still now as his father was, all those years ago.

The door creaks open, and a guileless voice asks.

“Father-?”

His breath sticks in his throat.

* * *

 He barely catches his twin when he comes barreling in through the chamber door. There is blood on his face and his eyes are wild.

“Yona,” he gasps, barely coherent between his panting breaths. “She _saw_ -“

“ _What?!_ Where is she- _”_

“Courtyard-“

He grabs the sword from a shuddering hand, and as he sprints out the door, he hears his twin dissolve into hysterical sobbing behind him.

* * *

 It is a beautiful spring night, and the air is warm. But as he looks at Hak’s glittering eyes, a chill grips him and does not let go.

“Hey Lord Soowon, what the hell is going on here? Where is King Il?” Hak’s voice is low, nearly a growl, but it retains its deferential edge. He hasn't spoken to Hak in nearly a year, but he can see why his brother is weak for this man.

But he is not his brother. He is Soowon, and he will be king one day.

“I just sent him to Hell. You may ask Princess Yona, for she witnessed it with her own eyes.” His voice is cold to his own ears, and he sees Keishuk shoot him a warning glance. He hasn’t spoken to Hak in nearly a year. He is out of practice, but it does not matter. This relationship can never be salvaged anyway.

They clash, he bleeds, and Hak is surrounded.

“Soowon,” Hak says, as though there aren’t six spear tips at his necks, as though they are still nine, and sitting together on the palace wall. His voice is quiet. “Was the Soowon that I saw an illusion?”

His heart twists in his chest, and he hears Keishuk take in a sharp breath. But when he answers, he keeps his voice soft, even.

“The Soowon that you knew… never existed to begin with.”

* * *

 These are the facts: Soowon is a man their age. He will be king tomorrow. He is clever and observant, and his heart has frozen in his two chests. His only friends are dead, by his own actions. It is a fair trade for the future of his country. This is, after all, what he was created for.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ...This makes it seem like Soowon is a RP character tbh


End file.
